


could you be my love, my love

by snsk



Series: the puppy play chronicles [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Negotiated kink, Pet Play, Praise Kink, Puppy Play, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 02:44:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5726788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snsk/pseuds/snsk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the buzz in dan's head won't stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	could you be my love, my love

**Author's Note:**

> if you have read the tags and are All For It, go ahead. if you aren't sure, or have questions, i suggest you proceed to the capital e capital n End Notes.

The buzz in Dan’s head won’t stop.

It’s always there, a low level loop of _whatamIdoing isitgoodenough williteverbegoodenough pretentiouswanker idioticfaker successisfleeting andsoisexistenceingeneral soreally **really** whatamIdoing_ , but it isn’t so bad, most days. He can ignore it’s even there, most days. Background music. White noise, turned down low.

And then there are the days where it builds up like a crescendo, a swelling symphony of noise, and nothing on the internet will distract him from it. Angry wasps, a motorcycle revving repeatedly but never actually starting. It’s too loud, and Dan can’t hear himself _think_.

Dan, even better, needs to _not_ think.

Phil’s not home yet.

Phil’s out with uni buddies who’re in town; they’ve gone to the pub. It’s been three hours and fifteen minutes, exactly. They’d invited Dan, but Dan had pleaded out; _dinner tomorrow_ , he’d promised; like this, the orchestra in his head, he’s not going to be any kind of good company.

The internet is useless.

Dan doesn’t bother to shut down Phil’s laptop properly; he slams it shut, leaves it on the coffee table. He leans back into the cushion, fist to his cheek, leaning.

One beat, two, then he’s up, over to his room, over to the drawer.

Dan can count on one hand the number of times they’ve done this since that night (hazy with wine and Dan’s heart pounding fast; legs tangled with one of Phil’s and Phil lazily scrolling through a reddit thread; Dan closing his eyes and hitting send on that link; the chime of Phil’s phone, his _oh, you_ -; falling silent as he’d actually begun reading through the article, Dan’s palms sweaty his heart _racing-_ ). He thinks about it often, but he doesn’t need it often. It’s just buzz, most days. Bees, humming. _Does he need it now_

The collar is lying right there, deliberately placed in the way Phil doesn’t normally treat things. Folded neatly beside it is the leash, smooth leather, smoother silver. Their links of metal catch the light, glint. The collar is black. So is the leash. _Aesthetic_ , Phil had said when they’d ordered it, reaching out to touch the screen like he could feel the texture of leather already.

Dan takes the collar out, leaves the leash. He turns it over in his hands, then slowly unfastens it, walks over to the mirror. He puts it on. He snaps it shut.

It looks pretty on him. It is very pretty on him. Dan knows this because Phil tells him every time, without fail, his voice filled with awe; _gorgeous boy, my gorgeous boy_. Dan feels better already, the buzz something turned down, something that can be ignored now that the collar has claimed all of his attention.

He takes the leash, closes the drawer softly. Then he goes outside, sits down on the floor, against the edge of the sofa, and waits, and waits. It isn’t a terrible noisy buzzing type of wait, either; it’s peaceful. He’s just waiting for Phil to come home.

He isn’t sure how long it takes Phil; not long, certainly, or maybe it’s just the timeless quality of the tranquility that’s settled over him since he’d put the collar on - to come in the door, calling, “Hey,” and then catching sight of Dan on the floor, knees up; collar ‘round his neck, leash between his fingers. “Hey,” he says again, but quieter.

“Hey,” Dan says, abruptly nervous like he always is, before - always scared Phil’s going to turn around and think _oh, what am I doing here; oh, what a fucked up guy_. It would be so easy for Phil to leave Dan and his buzzing mind alone.

Phil goes over, steps deliberate; runs his palm over Dan’s hair, over his cheek. The buzzing quietens, just as suddenly as it’d started to build up again. “D’you wanna play?” Phil asks, fond, and when Dan nods, choked up with relief, says, “Okay. Good boy. Good boy.”

He leans down, then, and takes the leash from Dan. Closer, Dan can smell his cologne, musky and slightly flowery; he can smell the slight tang of beer on his breath. “Hold still,” Phil says, and clips the leash to his collar. “Good boy.” He runs his fingers over Dan’s cheek again, scratches his chin once, light. Dan feels a deep, heavy sort of peace settle in his belly.

Phil disappears for a bit; when he returns he’s jacketless and drying his hands on his t-shirt. He settles into the sofa, leg brushing the side of Dan’s body. “I missed you, boy,” he says, and Dan makes a noise in his throat, all satisfaction. “Hey, did you happen to finish up that email, I wonder-” he opens his laptop, hums when he sees the draft. Dan watches his long fingers fly over the keyboard, a sentence here, backspacing there.

Dan doesn’t like being ignored. He doesn’t know if Phil’s doing it on purpose, but he doesn’t like it. When about five minutes pass and Phil’s still editing, he lets out a short, displeased whine. Phil chuckles, low. “Hold on, baby,” he says, but his eyes are still fixed on the screen.

Dan _refuses_ to hold on. He trots, hands and knees, over to the other side of the coffee table, his leash trailing behind him. He climbs onto the sofa, nudges his face into Phil’s shoulder. Nuzzles. Phil smells good here, all Phil scent and clean laundry detergent.

“What’s the no-furniture rule for?”Phil enquires, but affectionate, so Dan knows he’s not in trouble. “You really want to play, don’t you?” Dan doesn’t answer, but pushes his face further into Phil’s neck. “Alright. C’mon, boy. C’mon.” He gently pushes Dan away, gets up; when he tugs on Dan’s leash, hard enough so Dan can feel it, Dan follows.

Phil leads Dan to his room; sinks onto the bed: “Sit,” he orders, and Dan, at his feet, obeys.

“Up,” Phil says, “ _good_ boy,” when Dan lifts his arms. Phil takes his shirt off, slides down and starts on his jeans, unbuckling his belt. Like this, he’s effectively straddling Dan. Dan wriggles at the pressure, the pleasure of the slight friction. “Good boy, good pup,” he keeps saying, breath ghosting over Dan’s ear, his hair. He takes Dan’s underwear off, and Dan’s effectively naked, except for the collar.

He gets up, and Dan’s suddenly bereft, but he just goes over to the drawer and takes out a soft toy, white, bone-shaped ( _D’you want ears?_ he’d asked, cursor hovering over the items. _Nah_ , Dan had said, _maybe - something to play with, though-_ ) and a familiar tube. “Hands and knees, pet,” he says, rubbing his left hand over Dan’s hair, ruffling: his face, his cheek, his ear. Scenting. Dan nuzzles into his palm, so he doesn’t realise it’s coming until one of Phil’s long fingers, slick and cold with lube, starts nudging against his asshole. He gasps.

“Good boy,” Phil says reassuringly, pressing the finger inside. “Relax, darling.” He works it steadily until it feels like a welcome intrusion, until it feels like not enough, and Dan bucks against it, he _wants_ -

“You want more?” Phil asks. Dan whines in agreement. “Alright, boy,” he says, and keeping eye contact with Dan, takes the toy, throws it over to the foot of the piano. “Go on, darling,” and Dan pads over to retrieve it ; bending down, taking it between his teeth, he brings it back to his Phil.

“Good pup,” Phil praises. “Such a good boy, aren’t you?” fondling his ears, passing a palm over his cheek, and Dan basks in contentment.

Phil coats his fingers again, dips one into Dan; this time he crooks it enough that Dan whimpers in mindless pleasure. “Yeah?” Phil says, smiling. He brushes the hair from Dan’s eyes, strokes Dan’s bare back. He works the finger in, out, and then withdraws it, tells Dan to go fetch again.

The second time Dan brings it back, from over by the chair, Phil rewards him with two fingers, searching until he finds the spot again, and then he throws Dan's toy again.

Dan doesn’t know how long this goes on; fetching and pleasing Phil and getting his own pleasure as a reward; all he knows, now, is Phil’s hands passing over his face, back, flank, comforting, soothing; Phil’s voice, murmuring praise, _good boy, oh my gorgeous pup, you’re so good, so good for me aren’t you_ , and of course he’s good for Phil, he’s Phil’s, who else would he be good for; Phil’s fingers, working in and out, making him cry, sigh, mewl, push back, wordlessly plead for more. There is an all-encompassing sense of peace in Dan’s brain now, a cloudy quiet, a sense of simple purpose and satisfaction and _pleasure_ -

“Come on,” Phil is saying, “bed, pup,” and Dan obediently climbs onto it, lets Phil rearrange him to his hands and knees again. “Okay?” Phil asks, quietly, from somewhere behind him, all around him. “Dan, darling - okay?” and Dan must nod, or - or whine, or make some sort of impatient noise, because the next thing he knows is Phil’s filling him up like he needs, blunt, heavy cock and one hand on Dan’s shoulder; this is satisfaction, this is _silence_ , this is Dan feeling filled and calm and _loved_ , and Phil’s kissing his shoulder, his neck. Phil’s saying, “my darling, my good boy, let me fill you up, let me - let me breed you, fuck,” and strangely enough when Phil presses fingers to his cheek, lets Dan suck on them, they’re salty, like he’s-

In, out, a relentless rhythm, Phil’s hands and lips and cock everywhere, Dan’s arms start trembling and he knows he’s making noise, sighs and cries and little whines, but he can’t quite hear? only Phil’s praise of him, and Phil hooks one hand on his collar, tugs, lets his lips graze Dan’s ear; he tells Dan: “Come for me, pup,” and so Dan does, gasping.

After that, Dan’s arms give out - he lets Phil rearrange him as he pleases, lets Phil take off the collar and clean him and their sheets up. He’s curled up on his side when Phil comes back from the bathroom. His arms are tired; his thighs are starting to ache. “Baby,” Phil says, kissing Dan’s cheek, affectionate and familiar. “You were so good. You’re always so good.” Dan lets Phil talk him through his day, through what Andy and Leo said, through the stories of old friends doing gossip worthy things. His fingers card through Dan’s hair the whole time, and Dan revels in warmth, closeness, a slow comedown, absolute and utter peace in his head.

“You with me?” Phil asks, eventually.

Dan shrugs, one-armed - not really sure if the movement reaches his shoulder. “Yes,” he says. His voice sounds strange to his own ears, a bit hoarse, a bit like it hasn’t been used for years.

“Are you just saying that to please me?”

“I don’t know,” Dan answers, honestly.

“Okay,” Phil says, easy. “That’s fine.” He tells Dan about Brad’s ex, who reared tortoises all over their flat. Dan rests his head on his arm, lets Phil mute the buzz for as long as Dan needs it gone.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) puppy play is when one person takes on the role of a pup or dog and another takes that of the handler or trainer. The pup acts like their canine counterpart and the trainer, for the most part, handles the pup like he would a biological pup. (spoiler alert: d&p engage in some pretty mild puppy play here; basically, dan likes pupspace and feeling like phil is his master, and there is a collar & leash involved, but that's about it. if you are uncomfy, exit immediately <3)
> 
> 2) this fic portrays a relationship in which d&p have discussed all that they do beforehand, and are perfectly okay with everything performed here. if you are thinking of trying any kind of kink that isn't vanilla-sex-y out, please do your research and discuss it with a partner you trust first. (#nicerbdsm...........im jk im jk)


End file.
